


Drop in, Break up

by Thenotemo



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Chance Meetings, Coffee, Fluff, Hotel Sex, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, I Will Go Down With This Ship, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Light Angst, M/M, Nationverse, Romantic Fluff, What-If, nearly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-15
Updated: 2020-04-15
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:42:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23667826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thenotemo/pseuds/Thenotemo
Summary: America bumps into a closed-off Romano, one thing leads to another and soon they're going at it in a hotel room. The gods, however, hate him and 2 certain nations walk in. Hidden conflicts and insecurities are revealed. America only wanted to reconnect.
Relationships: America/South Italy (Hetalia), England/Spain (Hetalia)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 30





	Drop in, Break up

**Author's Note:**

> hi I got impulsive so here we have this trainwreck of a fic, I hate how it turned out but that's ok we move, I have no idea how it escalated

America skipped out of the conference room. Today was one of his rare off days, once he returned from the conference, he wouldn’t have to do any paperwork. For this, he thanked the divine beings who were pulling the strings. He sighed blissfully. It was time to truly appreciate France. He walked along, trying to clear his head. It only made his mind run faster. He was so engrossed in his thoughts, mindlessly walking to the hotel, that he didn’t notice the person in front of him until it was too late.

“Ow, watch where you’re going you bas-America?” A crash. A melodic Italian accent.

“Romano?” He straightened up almost instantly, looking long and hard at the other nation. “What are you doing here?”

He glared. America realised that he had hit a nerve, Romano was very insecure and he knew that. He cursed silently.

“Just in case it didn’t go through your thick skull 100 years ago, I’m Italy too, since my brother is sick, I’m the one who’s attending today.” America took a long hard look at him, taking in every detail. He didn’t remember seeing him at the meeting.

“Haha, I didn’t see you at the-“ he was interrupted.

“Of course you didn’t see me at the meeting, you were too busy making stupid suggestions and heart eyes at England to notice anything else!” He sounded resentful. Romano turned on his heel, prepared to leave, America finally sprung into action.

“Wait, how about I make it up to you, I miss this.” He mentioned vaguely with his hands. He started to panic when Romano’s expression started to change.

“That happened a long time ago, I’m surprised you still care, considering you were the one who caused it to end.” His words felt like burning acid. America stepped away as if he had been burned. Romano had already begun to leave.

“Wait,” he grabbed his shoulder a little too harshly, Romano was jerked back and nearly fell, “wait, can we go grab a coffee, as friends?” Romano pushed his hand off and looked at him incredulously.

“I-“

“Please, I’ve been meaning to check up on you and I know that you don’t like French coffee but its good to try new things, and there’s this really cool place I know and the pastries there are amazing, dude you have to try them….” America was pulled out of his rambling by the answer he wanted.

Romano held a palm to his forehead. “Ugh, whatever, you’re so stupid.”

“Dude, really, you’re the best, I’m so excited to catch up!” It really was true, America wanted nothing more than to just talk to Romano. It had been a couple of years since they had talked. That time, they only exchanged formalities.

* * *

America may not have been very perceptive, nor very reflective, yet when the silence turned torturous, he couldn’t help but reflect on his past. His firsts and his lasts. It seemed out of place amongst the war and the carnage, yet one of his regrets was how his first relationship went. His memories of it went two ways. It was either sweet and domestic or a flurry of liquor and flames. He had celebrated Italian-American day alone for so long.

* * *

They walked along the narrow winding streets. America would never understand the European obsession with making streets unusable. He didn’t bring it up, not wanting to ruin the mood.

They eventually reached the café and America made a noise of delight at seeing the familiar sign. He was looking for a local place, one that wasn’t too touristy, France had told him about it and had brought him here once. Since then, he had never looked back.

“Are we going in or are you going to just stand outside like an idiot?” America shook his head, slightly dazed. Romano could be picky about food, he knew this. He was slightly anxious, wondering if Romano would like the food or not. It could make or break their newfound friendship.

“Uhh sure, let's go.” The bell made a cheery little jingle as they entered the shop. Immediately, he was assaulted by colours of all kind. He surveyed the scrumptious macrons, to the small profiteroles, they were all waiting to be devoured. Romano surveyed the coffee menu, he looked unimpressed.

A woman came from the back room. She was one that America had recognised, he had seen her most times he visited the café. She was small and petite and exceptionally cheery.

“Ahh Alfred, I haven’t seen you in such a long time,” she spoke in slightly accented English, “oh, who’s this?” Her eyes shifted towards Romano.

“Ahh, he’s a friend of mine.” He winced at the word friend.

“Ciao, bella pleasure to make your acquaintance.” He gave her a slight smile. America felt nauseous.

“Oh, Italian, I knew as soon as I saw your handsome face.” She giggled, equally as sweet. America felt the need to stop the exchange, his possessive side was flaring up.

“Hey, Lovino, are you ready to order yet?” But how could he have been possessive over something that was never his?

* * *

They had sat at the table, it was late afternoon so the café was rather busy, being populated by people returning from work or school. They made some small talk, going back and forth. They joked around a little bit, although America felt as if he might’ve crossed a line with the Goodfellas reference, from the way Romano’s lips tightened and he grit his teeth. Somehow, one thing led to another and they were now in America’s hotel room.

He had convinced Romano to come back with him to his room, convincing being begging, whining and giving him puppy eyes. He wasn’t necessarily embarrassed. Sometimes to get what you want, you have to beg, this was advice that he took to heart. The visit was strictly platonic, yet he couldn’t quell the butterflies that soared around his stomach.

He stepped out of the shower and dried himself off, he wrapped the towel around his waist and realised that he didn’t leave any clothes out. He cursed and eventually came to the conclusion that he could move fast enough without Romano noticing too much. He breathed in, and embarked on his mission.

“Hey, burger bast- HEY!” America had tripped on the coffee table’s leg and had fallen over the sofa. The sofa that Romano had been lounging on. His face was a mere centimetre from his own. He could see the rings of brown around his hazel eyes, the contours of his cheekbones and each individual eyelash. He noticed something.

“America.” He whispered.

“You’ve got an eyelash, here let me get it for you.” He reached out, trying to break the tension. Romano grabbed his hand.

“Are you going to kiss me or not?” America lost all self-control.

He smashed their lips together, their nosed painfully colliding together. He pushed Romano deeper into the couch, grabbing fistfuls of the fabric. Romano reciprocated, biting on his bottom lip hard and poking his tongue in. His hands were on America’s face. They continued, Romano broke the kiss and started to leave little nips at America’s jaw. America moaned a bit and inhaled sharply as Romano got to his collarbone. America grabbed Romano’s dress shirt and ripped it open, making the buttons fly all over the place. He took a moment to rake his eyes up and down before diving in for another kiss. He couldn’t think straight, his mind was everywhere, all he heard was their own heavy breathing and all he felt was his need and lust. Their crotches rubbed together and America could feel himself getting progressively harder.

* * *

They heard a beep, it was the keycard. It was all too soon before the door opened and the intruders revealed themselves.

It seemed as if Spain was about to pin England against the adjacent wall before they both turned around.

America scrambled off of the sofa and tried to cover what he could.

“Hey guys, what are you doing in my room?”

“Your room? This is my room.” England said, looking straight through the sofa.

There was an awkward silence, the four were processing the sights before them.

“And that pirate foreplay has put me in the mood to break somebody’s neck.” Spain spoke up. He was covered in hickeys and smiling at him. His grin was wide and toothy like the Cheshire Cat. His eye was twitching. He looked livid.

“I-“

“Now what shall we use, the axe is too lenient, should we use the rack, I remember it being very effective for occasions like this. What are your last words cabrón?” He was looking frenzied.

“Spain, wait!” Romano stood up.

“No Roma, I let someone defile you, take your innocence, your purity, I’m such a terrible boss!” He saw Romano’s temper spike.

“Yet you’re still fucking England, stop getting so hung up on my personal life I’m not a baby anymore!” England sputtered at the remark and was about to retort when they saw Spain sprint towards Romano. America dove to restrain him but he was too slow. Spain ran towards Romano and wrapped his arms firmly around him. America looked on in shock.

“Oh mi tomate, I don’t know where I went wrong, you were so small once, but now you’re here and you’re all grown up,” Romano struggled slightly, “But to mess around with him, that I cannot accept, he was raised by England, not to mention all the other things he’s done.” America started to get angry. He could feel the fire in the pit of his stomach, he was about to say something but was beat to it by England.

“Oh, so that’s the card we’re playing, just a moment ago, if my memory doesn’t fail me, you were begging, listen you possessive, unstable oaf, unhand him and we can all talk about this like adults.” Spain faltered for a bit, looking angrier than ever, then did as he was told. America breathed a sigh of relief, glad that the ordeal was over.

“Don’t look so relieved young man, I’m not done with you.” England glared.

* * *

If America was embarrassed then, he would’ve wanted to die to preserve his honour now. They were all seated at the coffee table, in their respective pairs.

“How long?” England had a disappointed look in bis eyes. America felt crushed. He hated disappointing people. He hated disappointing England.

“Well, w-we had a thing in the 1920s, we broke up and we didn’t talk for a long time, we met today and one thing led to another and you know what?” America couldn’t bring himself to talk anymore, “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

“The 1920’s, huh, I missed so much.” England looked so downcast, so weathered that America felt an overwhelming urge to apologise.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry that I never told you about how I’m doing dude.” It was true, he meant every word of it, he regretted so much.

“It’s fine, I’ve come to terms wi-“

“No it’s not, we ended because I was stupid, because I was looking for you all along, because I couldn’t have you, I wanted someone like you I-I..” He couldn’t do it. He just felt something snap inside of him and he just unloaded everything. He was just so tired of hiding. Of running. He immediately felt a sense of dread when he finished. He suddenly regretted saying that.

England looked shocked. Then he looked confused. He finally settled on looking at him with pity, with love. He hated it.

“It’s true,” he was saved from awkward silence by Romano, “it’s true, it turns out the only thing he needed was an emotionally constipated jerk, I suppose he grew to love me, but you can’t be with someone who uses you for a place holder.” He let out a pained chuckle. America winced and reached to hold Romano’s hand. He jerked it away with an audible whip.

“So you go back to him, Romano, you go back to the man who treats you like a substitute?” Spain was glaring at him again and America turned his head away in shame.

“That’s why I stayed with you all those years, no?” Romano was looking at him with venom, he was faltering, his eyes watering.

“Mi toma-“

“Don’t you ‘mi tomate’ me, what about all those times you begged fucking Austria to take me back, the times you proposed to my brother in front of me, ‘Vene this, Vene that’, what about those times you came back from fighting England, I was the one who nursed you back to health, not Belgium, not the maids, and how did you repay me?” There was silence. “You repaid me by fucking my 16 year old body into a wall and refusing to acknowledge it, I prayed, I prayed so hard!” He was panting by the end of his rant. America reached for his hand again and gripped it firmly, feeling the heat radiating off of his palm. This time Romano didn’t pull away.

“I’m sorry, I just felt so guilty, I- “ All eyes were on Spain. America was in total shock.

“Save it, it's too late, now that you selfish pricks are so desperate to find out what happened, here it is.” He paused before starting. “I moved into his house in the 1910’s, my own fucking government didn’t care about me enough to go after me, I freeloaded at first, but then I worked all sorts of jobs. I fed him and taught him how to cook in exchange for money and shelter, we had a relationship, war happened and I moved back. That’s all there is.” He was purposely being avoidant and leaving details out, America breathed a sigh in relief. There were some things he didn’t want anyone to know.

America nodded. “Basically.”

“I’m sorry, we’re sorry, we, ugh, um, raising another nation is extremely complicated, I’m sorry that this happened, that-“

“-we got stuck in the past.”

“-we got stuck in the past.”

England and Spain shared a look, they looked unusually surprised. America, at this point, wanted to leave and never come back, the mood had been ruined and he really couldn’t bring himself to look anyone in the eyes. After all had been said and done, he really just wanted everyone to leave so he could sleep. He suddenly felt furious. All he wanted to do was rekindle his friendship with someone he cared about, yet he got this instead. Why did all the bad things happen to him?

“So umm, can you guys just get out of my room?” He awkwardly piped up.

“There’s still the keycard issue we need to solve.” England said.

“Oh yeah, that.”

* * *

And so the night ended with everyone going back to their respective rooms, England being assigned a new one. After the whole debacle, America sat on the sofa. He was hunkered down with a bottle of whiskey from the minibar. The urge to just forget was strong tonight. Too much was shared about him. He hated people knowing his weaknesses. He hated that the only thing that he got was an apology. He hated that the only thing that he could possibly get was an apology. He always had the strong suspicion that they would be used against him. He looked up at the velvety Paris skyline, wishing that he could just fly. He had been alive for so long, all his affairs felt so complicated, sometimes he forgot to be a human too.

He was interrupted by his musings by a chime. He groaned, wondering why someone would visit him in the dead of night. He looked through the peephole and smiled when he saw who it was.

“Hey Bastard,” Romano’s muffled voice could be heard through the door, he held up a bottle of wine. America let him in.

“Want to get drunk?” He laughed brightly, happy that in the end, he truly got what he wanted. Although, it was very long winded, America was grateful. He embraced Romano tearfully, he breathed in the scent of rosemary and smiled. He truly missed this. All he wanted was a night to make things right. he wanted to truly love him, and not the person he was reminded of. He would take it one day at a time.

“Are you going to kiss me now?”

“Get down here!”

**Author's Note:**

> if you liked it, pls comment, if you didn't, leave a comment, or don't, whatever floats your boat :)


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